Paint me blue
by MyMagentaPeach
Summary: Kurt has started at Dalton not too long ago. The sudden change has not fixed everything. But maybe new friends and a curly haired boy can? Warnings: Self-harm
1. Torn

**Disclaimer: **Glee gehört mir nicht. (That's German for 'I don't own Glee':) I mean :( ;)

**A/N: **This story was inspired by two great prompts from the Between Friends Project, so first of all a big THANK YOU to everyone involved in it. You guys have given me a lot of wonderful story ideas over all these months, and so much amazing feedback. You also already know the first two chapters to this, so feel free to read on once I post chapter three:)

To everyone else, I hope you love the read as well. Let me know?

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**Torn**

* * *

Blaine cannot remember the door to Kurt's room ever having had a mirror on its outside.

Then again, Kurt loves to make changes once in a while, or twice, so Blaine is not really surprised to find it there when he comes by on a Tuesday afternoon after school at Dalton, a book under his arm he had borrowed from Kurt a while ago, back before he even had started attending Dalton too.

Blaine has forgotten to return it for so long already he feels it is time to give it back immediately, even if his forgetfulness during the day means he has had to drive to Lima.

Because, of course, with Warbler practices and the madness that is Nick and Jeff's new relationship surrounding all of the friends, Blaine had kept forgetting all through the school day and remembered only right after Kurt had left - the book still resting safely in Blaine's satchel.

Now that Blaine thinks about today and Kurt, he realizes, only now, Kurt had been really quick out of the common room, _'...exceptionally quiet all day.'_

Blaine feels ashamed, can barely look at himself in the mirror anymore allof a sudden, _'What if something is really wrong? I should be a better friend than that.'_

Blaine still feels guilty enough about the whole Karofsky incident. He had seen no sense that day in breaking down in front of an already broken down Kurt, in apologizing for hours on end for causing him to do something that had led to Karofsky's kiss. Blaine had felt what Kurt had needed was distraction and a friend close by. And he had tried to be that.

Standing there Blaine's stomach is already churning as he hears a sob coming from inside the room. He stands completely frozen, _'Kurt does not know I'm here at all.'_

_'Finn let me in downstairs,'_ Puck only two steps behind him entering, Blaine had only realized when the other boy was next to him, Finn already closing the front door again.

Finn, Puck, the two of them are downstairs now playing videogames on the bigger living room television because as long as Burt is not back from work, well, they can, and they plan to make the most of their time, judging by the sounds of gunfire blasting up the stairs behind Blaine in a volume Blaine is sure he would find unbearable sitting right in front of the TV.

There are more sobs coming from behind the door now, and Blaine does knock, several times, himself trapped between the two soundscapes dominating the house.

After a moment's more wait he has to admit to himself that between the noise coming from downstairs and Kurt's own sobbing there is no way he will be heard anytime soon, so tightening his grip on Kurt's copy of _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ Blaine slowly pushes the handle of the door to Kurt's room down.

If the noises from downstairs were not this loud he could hear the sound of a gasp coming from inside, as he slowly pushes the door open wider, carefully prompting, "Kurt? Can I come in? I wanted to give you back your bo..."

Blaine freezes in the frame of the door, the only sound in the next moment the book, no longer in his hand, hitting the floor.

Then there is Blaine scrambling forward and his knees hitting the floor beside Kurt's bed.

It is a desperate whisper, "Kurt," as Blaine reaches over to where Kurt has rolled up, shirtless, on himself on his bed, face buried sideways in the pillows, away from Blaine, wincing as he holds the old, rough, stained towel against his abdomen.

He knows it is too late, Blaine has _'... has seen.'_

"Kurt."

Kurt can barely stand how watery his friend's voice sounds, nor make anything much of it, still held up in the pain piercing his broken skin.

Blaine swallows back the question, it feels wrong and intrusive to ask, _'Why?'_

Kurt is outright crying now, Blaine can tell from the way his body shakes, even if he is biting back all sound.

Blaine reaches over and after picking up the bloody razorblade from the now stained bedcovers and dropping it onto the nightstand he, quickly toeing of his shoes, crawls onto the bed from the other side, beside Kurt, to face him.

Kurt turns his face away from Blaine again as soon as the boy reaches out to smooth back the pale boy's tousled hair.

"Please leave," Kurt chokes out after a moment of silence.

"I can't," Blaine's voice is broken but soft, the iron grip inside his chest still there, and he suspects not going anywhere anytime soon.

"Why not?" Kurt asks, voice so wet, it sounds like the boy is half drowned already.

"I care about you," Blaine brings out softly. "I will always care about you." And with that Blaine reaches out, takes the hands clutching the towel to Kurt's abdomen still into his hands, squeezes them warmly before he, leaving Kurt one hand to hold on to reaches, with the other, down and pulls carefully the fabric away, "Oh, Kurt."

The question is burning in Blaine's throat, but it does not feel fair or right to ask this much of Kurt right now so he swallows it back, down once more, _'Why?' _

Kurt, looking down his body himself, winces at the fresh cuts being exposed to air, and Blaine can just catch Kurt's cheek with his left hand as he is about to turn his face away again.

Blaine caresses his cheek, leans down and places a kiss to Kurt's forehead that has Kurt's breath hitch, then whispers, "How do you usually," he chokes on the word, starts over, "How do you usually clean this up, when, ... after you're, you're ... done?" Blaine has seen the old lines too covering Kurt's abdomen, and he is neither naive nor stupid.

"Please leave," Kurt repeats his earlier plea. "I can ..., I'm used to ... I can do this part alone."

"Kurt," and for the first time since Blaine has entered this room Kurt willingly looks back at Blaine with red-rimmed eyes, bloodshot from all the tears that have washed over them today, tearing across Kurt's blurred sight. "Kurt, that's just it, I'm here for you. No matter what, _'No matter why,' _you don't have to do, you don't have to deal with any of ..., with anything alone."

"But I am alone. I am at Dalton, I am a Warbler, and I am still so s_o_ alone. Seeing Nick and Jeff together ... . I," Kurt shakes his head but the new tears fall anyway, heavy, hard, "I will never not be alone. And I ... I, I need ... ."

"What do you need, Kurt?"

"I need to feel ... _something_."


	2. Unhalted

**Chapter 2**

**Unhalted**

* * *

He's at home, scared, terrified even, and just wishing that it would stop ... but his hands keep itching.

Blaine has made him get rid of a lot of sharp things in the days since _'...since THAT day,'_ - the day Blaine had found out more than Kurt had ever wanted to tell ... _anyone_.

But there are things Blaine cannot get rid of for him. The throbbing in Kurt's head is nothing that can be packed up in a trash bag with razorblades, hand-mirrors Kurt might smash – use the shards to cut.

So he is stuck, they are stuck in his room, the throbbing in his head, the itching in his hands and him. They are foreign and they are part of him.

'_How do you get rid of a part of yourself?'_

How does anyone ever get rid of anything attached to them, intertwined deep within you?

_"You are not alone." _After cleaning up, cleaning the broken skin as good as they could, Blaine had held Kurt that day, had whispered soothing words and had held him close until his breathing had calmed so much, Blaine had not been sure if Kurt had not fallen asleep until Kurt had asked, voice small, "What now?"

"Do you want me to tell someone?" Maybe it had been a stupid question, already a stupid thought before it had left Blaine's mouth. He had had to try though. Right?

Kurt had only shaken his head, eyes squeezed shut tight then.

Blaine had held him for what had felt like hours after that, long, peace-filled hours, both of them curled up against the headboard of Kurt's bed. And Kurt – zoned out, cocooned in Blaine's warm form – had not even registered his dad coming in, exchanging surprised looks and a couple of hushed words with the stranger cuddling with his son, _'... by the looks of it.'_

'_So much for a smooth first meeting.' _

'_Maybe if Blaine was here ...?'_ maybe then the itching, the throbbing, maybe then they would leave, _'...leave me alone.'_

It is a torturous choice, because Kurt cannot tell, he knows he will not be able to tell until Blaine is here again, if it had been the new cuts or ... or those arms _'... holding me,' _that had made all the difference that day. Kurt knows what he longs the answer to be.

But he cannot know; there is always a calm ... after cutting. At least some hours, sometimes, rarely, even days, where it is okay, where it does not hurt to breathe around other people and not _every_ smile is forced or fake; where the head is dazed enough to believe in more than it sees, hears. Time when the person inside does not feel so damn trapped_ '... always.'_

For the first time in a very, very long time Kurt wonders if what he wants has never really been to be left alone. _'I hate feeling alone.'_ But how could he want anything else, with the way other people have treated him? Because who, who could love _him_?

Kurt has long forgotten what it is like to be around someone else and be himself, be happy being himself, sure in who he is, because he is loved for his smile, his laugh, his love.

The Warblers, the Dalton boys are different, different from McKinley, the bullies, the haters.

But they are also so different, in so many ways, ... from him.

It is scary having such a loose grip on yourself that every time you try and allow yourself to be, just be, around people ... your grip slips. Because you just know, everyone is telling you after all, has been telling you for years, you need to be _'... I need to be someone else, new, different, to deserve a solo, to deserve a mom, to deserve a life. To be loved, to deserve to be loved.'_

Then, in those moments not even your clothes will hold you together. And Kurt has tried, with the tightest clothes he could find.

They do not work, they won't keep him, won't hold him any closer to himself.

Blaine had held him.

'_There are knives downstairs, maybe even razorblades in dad's bathroom around the corner. There is bound to be something in reach,' _it is a thought Kurt has not been able to shake, for too long already today. Saturdays are hard. Kurt used to help his dad in the garage, a lot. Now there is Finn, and he is not needed anymore. Kurt used to make dinner, for the two of them. Now there is Carole, cooking for four, and even the task of eating seems impossible to Kurt now ... too often.

As he keeps his limbs locked, his muscles aching with tension, Kurt reaches for his nightstand, his phone, even the edges are rounded.

"Blaine?" Blaine had insisted on being on Kurt's speed-dial after receiving a weak _"No,"_ as answer to the question if a_nyone_ else knows.

"Hey, Kurt," the voice already is warm and so soft in Kurt's ear.

Kurt is clutching the phone hard, fingers paling with the force, "Can you come over. ... I'm, I'm scared I'll, I'll ... do something."

...

Kurt meets Blaine at the downstairs front door a while later, pale, and as Blaine takes Kurt's hand in his for a brief welcoming squeeze he notices _'...shaking, too.'_

Blaine does not let go as they start walking.

They have a quick drink in the kitchen and are on their way back upstairs - Blaine had caught Kurt staring blankly in the direction of what he had suspected to be the cutlery drawer, holding all sorts of sharp objects, no doubt, and so prompted for them to head upstairs - when they run into Burt in the hallway.

"Hey guys. Where to in such a hurry?"

"This is Blaine, Dad. Blaine, this is my dad," Kurt introduces with mild disinterest, the itch still all under his skin making him restless. He cannot focus.

"I know," Burt answers, which has Kurt's attention snap back into place.

"You ... you've met?"

"Kurt," Blaine says, gently squeezing Kurt's hand, "Last week, when I returned your book," Blaine swears he can feel Kurt's heart pounding in the tips of his fingers it is pumping suddenly so hard, _'Fear,'_ "... when you were so exhausted from Warbler practice and studying that you fell asleep on me after we had sat down and talked. I didn't want to wake you. And your dad walked in, wanting to ask you to dinner," Blaine says briefly smiling at Burt, "after I explained he said it was okay for me to stay a little longer. So I stayed ... for a while. Until you woke up again."

"Oh yeah, right. Okay," Kurt murmurs, eyes unfocused, glazed.

"Everything alright, Kiddo? You look paler than usual," Burt asks concerned.

"No, no I'm ... I mean, I'm fine."

Not entirely convinced Burt turns to Blaine, "Keep an eye on this one for me, will you? He does not like to ..."

"Daad, I can take care of myself," Kurt interrupts.

"See what I mean?" Burt says with a chuckle.

Blaine answers only with a weak smile, _'If only ...,' _"I'll keep my eyes open, Sir."

"Thanks, Kid."

Kurt has let go of Blaine's hand about three sentences ago, is already half up the stairs when Blaine hurries after him, "Kurt!"

* * *

A/N: It hurt writing Burt like this, so unsuspecting:(


	3. Broken?

**Chapter 3**

**Broken?**

Kurt is standing in front of his wide open flung window, his own arms wrapped tightly around him, when Blaine reaches the room.

For the next minutes it does not seem to matter what Blaine says, Kurt keeps shaking his head at best half listening.

The air in the room growing increasingly icy, Blaine steps forward and, pressing his chest to Kurt's back, wraps him up in his arms.

The speed at which Kurt freezes, all previous movement instantly ceasing, is scary; and Blaine cannot help but notice the shallowness of Kurt's breathing. So, heavy-heartedly he lets go, moves around the boy ... to look at him.

"Kurt."

"I don't know what I was thinking," Kurt gets out, barely.

"Did I do something wrong?" Blaine asks, worried.

"No one is supposed to know."

"Is this about your dad? He does not know, I swear, I told him nothing except what I said downstairs."

"He can't know," Kurt whispers brokenly.

"Why, Kurt?" Blaine tries hesitantly. "I'm sure he would want t... ."

Kurt cuts Blaine off, "He has done nothing wrong."

"You have done nothing wrong either, Kurt. I promise."

"But I have. He would be so hurt if he ever found ... found out" Kurt whispers the next words, "... that I'm hurting myself. And it hurts, knowing that knowing this is not ..."

"Is not what?"

"... is not enough, knowing that is not enough for me to stop. Why isn't it enough? What's wrong with me?"

'_I don't know! Nothing. Something?' _Blaine thinks but what he says is, "Can we try to figure it out together? What you ..., why you ...? Damn it, Kurt, PLEASE can I just be here for you?"

"I know I called _you_ ... so, do you really want that? This ... this mess?" Kurt whispers brokenly.

"I want you to only want good things for yourself. I want you to feel safe and happiness. As much as possible."

"I want to want that to," Kurt says sadly. When Kurt looks up at the boy standing in front of him, there are barely eyes to see, hidden behind lids sunk with exhaustion and filled to the brim with tears.

Blaine knows before he does it, the sense buried deep somewhere at the back of his mind, it is irresponsible, but he cannot regret the impulse, and damn it, he is fifteen, he cannot do everything right, especially at his first try. And this kiss is, after all, one such try. A first, ... ever.

Kurt's eyes are wide, all his features marked by shock when their lips disconnect again after their first meeting in more than song.

"Please say something, Kurt. Anything," Blaine pleads swallowing hard.

The tears are still breaking open on his cheeks when, taking a step back, Kurt chokes out, "Why would you do that?"


End file.
